


Ornithology 102

by Kieron_ODuibhir



Series: Cirque de Triomphe [30]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Adam West Batman moment, Earth-3, Ed Nigma argues for the use of common sense, Everyone Deserves to Be Saved, Families of Choice, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Jason Todd is a Talon, Jokester Is Annoying, Mirror Universe, The power of friendship, Unconventional Families, huh, i fixed the title, overanalysing jokes is always funny, that was not a canonized tag when I started this series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 09:32:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5923288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kieron_ODuibhir/pseuds/Kieron_ODuibhir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What weighs three ounces," asked Jokester brightly, "sits in a tree, and is very dangerous?"</p><p>"A rural surveillance camera," said Ed. He was not in the mood to play, even his own game.</p><p>"No, silly. A robin with a machine gun. Though...now that I think about it, how does the bird use the machine gun? I mean, it's a simple matter of weight ratios. A three-ounce bird cannot operate a fifteen-pound assault weapon!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ornithology 102

**Author's Note:**

> Despite what the Riddler and Burt Ward would have us believe, sparrows do not actually come in six-ounce size. It would be damned hard to find a two ounce sparrow, even. European Robins are even smaller, but the American Robin (no relation) is as I have mentioned elsewhere a big fat songbird that can weigh nearly three. 
> 
> So...smaller than a swallow. ;)
> 
> Edit: Good grief! The title's been misspelled for the last four days. How embarrassing. This is why one oughtn't to do things in a rush.

Talon— _Jason Todd_ , okay, right—had spent the first couple of hours after the warehouse fight in a state of calm that, in anyone else, Enigma would have taken for shock. On him it was basically just more Talon, except that he mustered a small smile for Harley when she approached him doing her very best _not_ to act like she was trying to tame a feral animal, and rolled his eyes at Jokester three times. Once they'd seen the Ortices off and decamped en masse to their own safehouse, he changed into the clothes they gave him—a pair of Ed's sweatpants, not quite long enough, and one of J's turtlenecks, with the sleeves rolled up—without fuss, and joined them at the kitchen table for a stilted, silent sort of three-AM-dinner.

Ella had already been put to bed by then, at a sensible hour; Pam, who'd drawn babysitting duty today, had made the most appalled face he had ever seen on her when they came in (even better than the time Ella had industriously unearthed all her root vegetables and replanted them upside down 'so the yummy part will get taller') and required extensive talking-down, and so far, Ed had noticed, no one had intimated Ella's existence in the defector's hearing. _He_ certainly wasn't about to.

He'd eaten mechanically until Harley stopped filling his plate. (Macaroni and cheese, slightly lumpy, with broccoli. The Circus tended to eat a lot of things that cooked in large batches and reheated well, especially in peak work periods like they'd had lately.) Ed had spent most of the meal trading increasingly exaggerated speaking looks with anyone willing to exchange them—mostly Pam, though Harvey was willing to chime in with his patented longsuffering expression, and J kept intercepting his looks of bemused aggravation to offer a rebuttal of manic cheer.

And now, finally, in the hush before dawn, half-curled-up on the squishy old green sofa with its back against an internal structural wall, Talon had dropped off to sleep, and Ed had a chance to talk to J about his latest crazy idea.

He dragged the clown to the far wall of the living room, where they could keep an eye on the apparently-sleeping boy without being right on top of him. "J," he said, in an undertone. "Have you really thought about what you've brought home?" When Jokester made an exaggerated moping face at him, Edward narrowed his eyes. "This is not just another stray you've picked up! Don't look at me like you're angling for a puppy."

"I know he's not a puppy," Jokester replied, entirely too light and easy. When Ed didn't smile J added, "He's a _kid_."

"He's spent _how_ many years as Owlman's pet killer? Three. That's how many. That isn't something you just _walk off_. I don't care if he's young, he's not 'a kid.'"

"Sure he is."

"Look. I accept that he _turned on Owlman_ for whatever reason; because you promised him protection or whatever. I accept that. It annoys me, but it almost definitely happened. And I'll keep your crazy promise, because…I don't even know. But I will. And I didn't say anything when you were like _welcome to the family,_ because it was not a moment for protest, and it's your family, right." Ed found himself seizing handfuls of his own hair in both hands and tugging, grinding his teeth as he did so. Now there was a habit he never liked to see coming back. He took a steadying breath. "Except I like to think I have a stake in it too, right, at this point?"

"Well duh." J actually rolled his eyes.

" _Thanks,_ I feel so loved—anyway. But have you seriously thought about what you're doing here?"

"Well, _seriously_ isn't really in my bag of tricks…"

"Don't lie to me."

"Harsh!"

"Don't even start. Have you? Is there a five-step plan? _One_ step?"

"We keep him safe."

"He's _Talon_ , he doesn't need protecting!" It was a whisper-shout, and Ed was on the verge of grabbing handfuls of hair again.

"He's _not_ Talon anymore," Jokester answered, almost a snap. "Don't call him that. He told us his name. And everybody needs saving sometimes. Jason's needed it for years, and it's not his fault we were too dumb to notice."

Ed mouthed silently for a second. "Do you even…"

Jokester smiled, eyes crinkling up fondly and it was so easy to get sucked in and believe that just because he wasn't worried, there was nothing to worry about. "Eddie. Buddy. It's gonna be okay."

Ed flung up both hands and turned toward the door. "Your optimism never fails to be a pain in the ass."

"Now you're just trying to make me feel better."

"Not hardly."

"Aw, c'mon."

Edward scowled. He knew that tone, that was jolly-them-around. He would not be jollied. He had every right to be mad. Jokester would not _actually_ curl up and die if everyone didn't love him 100% at all times.

"What weighs three ounces," asked Jokester brightly, "sits in a tree, and is very dangerous?"

"A rural surveillance camera," said Ed. He was not in the mood to play, even his own game.

"No, silly. A robin with a machine gun. Though...now that I think about it, how does the bird use the machine gun? I mean, it's a simple matter of weight ratios. A three-ounce bird cannot operate a fifteen-pound assault weapon!"

He was glad he'd already turned his back, so J couldn't see him fighting down a smile. "That was _awful_. And you don't need to go looking for incredibly dangerous birds, J. You already _brought one home_."

After Enigma stalked out of the room, still muttering about _how had he let his life turn into something dictated entirely by crazy people_ , Jokester turned to the green sofa against the opposite wall. (Which was not actually very far away, because it was not that big a house, and the rooms were sized to match.) "Sorry about that," he said.

Jason Todd's eyes flicked open. "For a genius," he said flatly, "he can be pretty stupid, can't he."

"Eh, he's used to people that can sleep through a hurricane. And he was whispering."

"He's right, you know." Jason still hadn't moved anything but his eyelids and his lips, and his posture curled on the couch with one cheek pillowed on his clasped hands still looked strangely vulnerable, for the blank tone of his voice. "You _shouldn't_ trust me."

"Aw, see, you and Ed agreeing about things already. You'll be best friends by the end of the month, you'll see."

Jason stared at him for a few seconds, with that blank Talon expression only slightly creased between the eyes. "I put a knife in his back last month," he pointed out. "Literally. Stabbed him in the back."

"Well, not because he'd trusted you not to," J pointed out in an utterly sensible voice.

"Anyway," Jason continued, clearly deciding that Jokester was too insane to grasp the meat of that particular point, "I don't think agreeing that you make no sense is grounds for friendship. Pretty sure lots of people loathe each other on every possible level and still agree about you."

"Yeah, but this way you two can commiserate about my nonsense. It'll be a bonding experience."

Slow blink. "Do you…annoy people into joining forces against you…often?"

"My powers of annoyance are multifaceted," Jokester confided solemnly.

And got a smile. It was a funny, flickering thing, like the reflex of amusement had swiftly been stuffed in a sack and sat upon by the counter-reflex of defensive nonexpression, and then belatedly, cautiously let out again, rather squashed.

But the fact that the reflex was a) still there and b) appearing outside its sack at all was a major victory, and Jokester beamed. Inasmuch as Jason Todd could feel safe anywhere in the world right now, he felt safe here, on Jokester's sofa.

And that was reason enough to argue with every friend he had in the world until they came around.

**Author's Note:**

> People keep asking about the skipped parts of Jason's character arc. I'm amenable. At this point I'm starting to figure I'll just fill it in by degrees until it's a continuous line. ^^
> 
> There _are_ machine guns almost as light as fifteen pounds, but I'm pretty sure J's actually thinking of some kind of full-auto rifle. In the interests of total accuracy in humor. Unlike me, he isn't really the type to be fussy about the details of terminology, unless that's the joke.


End file.
